Each day, each hour the blessings flow;

I am so blessed I can’t complain.

He comforts me when I am ill;

He soothes and heals life’s sharpest pain.

But yet I hunger for Him more,

And grasp for morsels from His word.

He beams a message into my soul,

A truth the angels have not heard.

He placed a cup into my hands,

A Word He gave me to inspire,

And as I drank it parched my flesh;

The contents were as liquid fire.

I know his hand is still outstretched,

To draw His blundering child to Him.

I see the promise written clear,

That fills my heart and soul with vim.

I do not take His outstretched hand;

I wish I could, I really do.

I’m stranded in the battle field,

Engaged in war, I must pursue.

I shadow-box so senselessly,

One would think I do not know,

Christ won my battle at the cross;

Satan is now a conquered foe.

March 15, 2005